


Three Lives

by general_galatea



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Death, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Not super Graphic, stayed up until 4am to write this for no reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/general_galatea/pseuds/general_galatea
Summary: Three lives each. That's the system. And it's up to them to decide how to spend those lives.
Kudos: 32





	Three Lives

**Author's Note:**

> There's not an insane amount of blood, but I mean... this fanfic is about the three lives system, so of course there's gonna be blood.

Wilbur’s lost all three of his lives.

It’s said that the first one is always the most painful. Wilbur found that statement to be true. Eret had led them to the room, the Final Control Room. All four of them had fallen for it. Wilbur had been so occupied with checking the chest with his name on it that he hadn’t noticed Eret press the button.

He’d only noticed when he heard Tubbo’s scream.

Wilbur had tried to protect them. He really had. Tommy and Tubbo were dead by the time he turned around. Wilbur had tried to protect his remaining boy, taking a slash in the throat that had been meant for Fundy. But it wasn’t enough.

Fundy had fallen. Just like the others. Wilbur had lasted the longest out of all of them. He was left on his knees, gasping for breath that his body no longer provided.

Punz had ended it mercifully with an arrow through Wilbur’s skull.

His second death had also been at the hands of Punz. Schlatt had been screaming, screaming for Wilbur and Tommy to get out, screaming for their deaths. Adrenaline had kicked in, and Wilbur had shoved Tommy, shouting at him to go. Tommy needed to survive.

Really, Wilbur doesn’t regret forcing Tommy to go first. It meant that Wilbur took any arrows aimed at Tommy.

The first arrow had hit Wilbur in the thigh. He’d stumbled, but kept running. The stumble was enough though, and the second arrow had struck him square in the back.

Wilbur had collapsed in the dirt, lungs filling with blood. He struggled for a long, terrible moment before succumbing, waking up at spawn a few seconds later.

His third and final death was quick. It was… refreshing. Already burned from the explosions, Wilbur had let Phil embrace him. It barely hurt. Philza’s sword had plunged in and out of his chest so quickly Wilbur could have imagined it.

And then he crumpled, folding into Philza’s arms as tears spilled from his eyes and a smile curled across his lips. 

Ghostbur only remembers the final death. He doesn’t hold it against Philza. After all, it must have been what Wilbur wanted, right? It must have made Wilbur happy.

Right?

Tommy has a single life left.

The trap in the Final Control Room had been horribly efficient. Tommy hadn’t expected anything. Even the chests being empty hadn’t clicked for him. He’d only realized that Eret had lied when the wall opened up in front of him.

His first instinct had been to run. So that’s what Tommy had tried to do, ducking Sapnap’s axe and running for the tunnel where the older man had emerged.

The killing blow was blissfully quick. Dream had stabbed straight through Tommy’s heart. Tommy was dead before he hit the ground, rolling out of the bed in the camarvan with a gasp of terror.

Dream gave Tommy his second death as well. Out of the two deaths, this was the worst. It was also Tommy’s fault. Wilbur had decided to surrender L’manberg to Dream. It didn’t sit well with Tommy. Why would they surrender to Dream? They could fight. They shouldn’t have to give in to him. 

So Tommy had challenged Dream to a duel.

In hindsight, not his best idea. Dream is powerful. Too powerful for anyone- or at least, anyone in L’manberg- to take on alone. Tommy realized this pretty quickly. When the time to duel came, nerves were overtaking every rational thought in Tommy’s mind.

His arrow missed. Dream’s did not.

Dream had been cruel with his aim. The arrow had hit just under Tommy’s heart, lodging in his left lung. Tommy had struggled for air, choking on the blood filling his mouth while his friends- his _family-_ huddled around him. 

There was nothing they could do.

Now Tommy’s on his last life. It’s a gamble for time. He doesn’t know what will be the cause of his final death. He could die at Techno’s hands. Or at Dream’s hands. He could wake up one morning and find himself at the bottom of the ocean, the last of his breath leaving his lungs. At this point, Tommy almost wants it. He wants it to be over.

But the Nether portal will always be there. And the lava isn’t going away any time soon.

Technoblade’s only ever lost one life.

Given his reputation, many assume that he died in a battle. Surely Technoblade, the famed warrior, must have lost his life in a massive, dramatic battle. Surely he must have gone down fighting!

Techno’s never told anyone the truth. Better to let them believe what they want to believe. They don’t need to know what happened.

He’d been young. Hybrids were never taken kindly to, but it was a double edged sword for Techno. Not only was he a “hostile” hybrid, he was a Nether hybrid. His human blood made him an outcast in the Nether. And his piglin blood made him hated in the overworld. No one was willing to spare food for him.

It had been a hard winter. Techno was starving, and the need for food made him reckless. He’d stupidly tried to slip his hand into a wealthier man’s bag. Of course the man had caught him, snatching Techno’s wrist and screaming in his face.

Techno hadn’t expected the man to be carrying a knife, nor did he expect him to use it.

At first, the wound in his gut hadn’t seemed that bad. Sure, it hurt, but Techno was used to pain. And besides, he didn’t know how to treat it. Techno wouldn’t even know what medicine to steal. 

Then he’d tried to steal from one of the larger shops, and got flung out into the mud. The mud had gotten into the exposed wound, and Techno hadn’t thought to clean it. Before long, the open wound was infected, and Techno had even less of an idea of how to treat it. 

By the end of the week, Techno was too weak to stand. Every heaving breath and cough sent pain shooting through his body, overtaking any other sensations. He didn’t feel the hunger pangs anymore. Body racked with pain and fever, Techno could barely see straight, anything that crossed his line of vision reduced to hazy, pink-and-yellow swirls. The line between hallucinations, dreams, and reality blurred until Techno didn’t know whether he was awake or asleep.

And then Philza had came.

At first, Techno hadn’t been able to tell if Phil was real. All he saw was the vague shape of a person crouching over him, with what looked like wings extending from his back. Instinct broke through Techno’s delirium, and he tried to push away. Phil had simply picked him up, cradling Techno to his chest and murmuring something soft. Techno couldn’t make it out into words, but it sounded… nice. Soothing. The gentle contact was comforting.

Techno’s heart stopped a few minutes later.

Simple as that. The stab wound, the infection, the fever, the cold, and the lack of food had been too much. Techno had died in Philza’s arms, shivering despite the burning heat of the fever. When he woke up, he’d found Phil again, and stayed with him. Phil hadn’t been able to save him. But he had stayed with Techno until he died. And that meant something to Techno.

So Techno stayed with Phil. He let Phil train him. He got good at fighting, learning how to fend for himself. When Phil picked up Wilbur, Tommy, and eventually Tubbo, Techno protected them too. He became feared. He became a warrior, someone that people ran away from on the battlefield. He became Technoblade.

Technoblade isn’t going to let himself be killed that easily again.

Philza’s died twice.

Usually he’s good at avoiding death. There’s always some last minute trick he can pull off, some crazy play he can use, some totem of undying he can dig out of his pocket. But of course, there are times when death is inevitable.

The first death Phil experienced was an accident. He had just taken in Tommy, and was trying to make him feel comfortable. Phil finds that self defense is always something that makes strays feel safer with him, so he had let Tommy watch one of his training sessions with Techno and Wilbur. 

Phil had let Techno and Wilbur try separate attacks for a while, then encouraged them to try attacking him together. It went well. The two boys seemed to understand each other’s styles, and managed to work well together. Phil had been focused on Techno, batting away his sword when Wilbur’s blade sank into his chest.

Instantly Phil could tell it was a killing blow. There was no way he could recover from a wound of that magnitude. He wasn’t worried though; not having lost any lives yet, he’d simply wake up in the house a few minutes later.

But neither Wilbur nor Tommy knew this at the time, and Techno didn’t fully understand it either. 

Wilbur had let out a horrified cry as Phil sank to his knees, fumbling at the sword in his chest. Techno had made a strangled gasping noise, and Tommy screamed. All three boys were crowded around him, making various noises of fear and panic, and Phil realized the misunderstanding. 

He’d gathered the boys close, trying to explain as quickly as possible. He’ll be fine, he’s going to be in the house, don’t worry, he’s fine. There wasn’t enough time though. Phil had keeled over, lungs collapsing before he had a chance to finish. Just as he said, he respawned in his bed seconds later, the only remnants of the accident being a slight ache and a scar. Phil had rushed back outside and comforted his boys, assuring them that he was fine. It had taken a bit of time, but he’d managed to convince them that it was alright.

Funnily enough, his second death had also been an accident. Phil had gotten cocky, neglected to wear a chestplate to allow his wings more freedom and leaving his helmet behind as well. It had been a while since his first death, and Phil wasn’t concerned about it. 

Apparently the baby zombie had had enough of Phil’s confidence. 

It had hit him in the stomach first, eliciting a breathless wheeze from Phil. Then it had landed a hard punch to his chest, knocking a surprised Phil to the ground. Just his luck, his head connected with the sharp edge of a rock, cracking his skull on impact.

Yeah. That wasn’t a fun way to go. And his last death will probably be even more unpleasant. But Philza still has a couple more tricks up his sleeve.

He’ll be able to avoid dying for a while more, he thinks.

Tubbo only has one life left.

He had been the only one who was suspicious of the Final Control Room. It wasn’t like Eret to hold back something as big as he claimed it was. Nevertheless, Tubbo had followed his family into that room, that trap. He’d stayed wary, even more suspicious when they discovered the empty chests. 

Tubbo had been the first one to see the walls open up and to see the Dream Team emerge. So he’d been the first one to die.

He had screamed. It was reflexive, and had earned him a gash across the front from Sapnap, the axe slicing into his shoulder and collarbone. Tubbo had fallen back, knocking over one of the chests as burning pain spread through his body. Sapnap had swung at him again, this time sinking the axe directly into Tubbo’s chest. 

Instantly the pain had doubled. Tubbo had struggled to breathe for about three seconds before slumping back, vision dimming as his lungs and heart failed.

No one else seems to acknowledge just how traumatic the whole experience is. So Tubbo shoves the trauma down, swallowing it and hiding it behind a smile. And he tries his best not to die again. 

Of course, it was impossible to avoid dying a second time. Already separated from his family, Tubbo let his guard slip. Schlatt had been… nice. He had let Tubbo give a speech.

And then Schlatt had trapped him in concrete, penning him in place.

Tubbo had been terrified. He hadn’t known what was happening or what had prompted the sudden onslaught from Schlatt. Even the reassuring looks from Wilbur did nothing to ease his panic. When Technoblade had been called up on to the podium…

Tubbo had begged. He didn’t want to die again, especially not at Technoblade’s hands. He’d seen the damage those fireworks could do.

Begging didn’t do anything. Technoblade had shot him point-blank in the chest with a firework. The force of the shot alone had been enough to snap Tubbo’s ribs like they were matchsticks.

He doesn’t remember the resulting explosion. But the scars on his face, chest, and hands tell him enough.

And surprisingly, Tubbo forgives Technoblade. 

So much has happened over the past few months. Tubbo’s caused enough pain without laying a single finger on a weapon. And every order, every decision, every thought of Tommy hurts.

He can’t image that anyone would _want_ to cause the pain he’s felt.

Fundy has two lives remaining.

It was only natural that he died in the Final Control Room with the rest of his family. They’d walked into that trap like pigs to a slaughterhouse. Fundy hadn’t even entertained the idea that one of them could be a traitor, let alone that they’d be led into a trap. 

He’d picked up on the sound of creaking pistons, but hadn’t made anything of it until he heard Tubbo scream. That had certainly caught Fundy’s attention, and he shot to his feet. Bewildered and scared, Fundy had turned in useless circles, unaware of the direness of the situation. 

Then he saw Tommy fall with Dream’s sword in his back, saw Tubbo’s body relax as Sapnap pulled the axe from his chest, and the reality of it hit Fundy hard.

George had put an arrow in his gut before Fundy had a chance to react. Wilbur had leapt in between them, taking what was supposed to be the final blow from George’s sword. As Wilbur fell to his knees, blood pouring from the slit in his throat, Fundy had tried to run.

Eret had caught his wrist, slowing him just long enough for George to direct another arrow into Fundy’s back, right to the side of his left shoulder blade. Fundy had collapsed facefirst on the ground, remaining conscious just long enough to feel George yank out the arrow. Bloodloss was what killed Fundy, too much blood spilling from his stomach and back for him to survive. 

Fundy had tumbled out of the bed in the camarvan mere moments after, landing squarely on top of Tommy and Tubbo. Not a second later, Wilbur followed, crushing all three boys under his weight. 

It would have been funny, had they not all just lost lives at a traitor’s hands.

Fundy decides that he doesn’t like dying. He doesn’t want to die again, not like that, not ever. So gradually, he changes, learning to adapt himself to whatever the situation called for. Wilbur wanted Fundy to be his little boy, so he was. Schlatt wanted Fundy to be an ally, so Fundy became hard and ruthless. Wilbur wanted Fundy back, wanted him to be trustworthy, so Fundy gathered information on Schlatt. Tubbo wanted Fundy to be a voice of reason, so Fundy voiced his opinions. 

He’ll do whatever he has to. He just doesn’t want to die again.

Quackity’s on his last life.

He finds it interesting, the way his view on death changes depending on how many lives he has left. At three, he’d felt utterly invincible. Death didn’t concern him. Why would it? He had three full lives to use.

Then the day of the festival arrived. Schlatt had ordered Technoblade to come up on the podium. Quackity hadn’t known what Schlatt’s plan was. In Quackity’s eyes, jailing Tubbo was enough. Clearly, Schlatt disagreed.

The instant Technoblade fired the crossbow, Quackity knew there was no saving Tubbo. All he could do was flinch, turn away, and hope that the kid had some lives to spare. 

Blood had splattered everywhere. Quackity hadn’t thought of that at the time though, too preoccupied with his own survival. Survival that hadn’t lasted long as Technoblade fitted another firework into his crossbow and aimed it at Schlatt. 

Quackity wonders if Technoblade meant to kill him. After all, the only reason why Quackity found himself on the receiving end of the crossbow was because Schlatt yanked Quackity in front of him and ran. The firework had clipped his side, resulting in an agonizingly slow death. Quackity had fought against the burns and the shredded mess that was his side for what felt like the longest minute of his life before giving in. Blood had filled his mouth, and Quackity had died with his eyes open and reflecting the red and blue fireworks.

Being on two lives had been interesting, he recalls. He was more careful than he had been with all his lives, but Quackity still lived rather recklessly. He took risks that he most likely shouldn’t have, fighting battles that he should have stayed out of.

That’s how he ended up losing his second life. Quackity had stupidly went toe to toe with Technoblade. When the execution didn’t go as planned, he went after Technoblade himself. Decked out in full netherite, he cornered Technoblade in the Final Control Room. Technoblade had warned against fighting, promising to put his pickaxe in between Quackity’s teeth. Quackity, being Quackity, attacked anyways.

Technoblade made good on his promise. Despite being heavily outsupplied, he managed to overpower Quackity. True to his word, Technoblade had jammed the business end of the pickaxe into Quackity’s mouth, driving it deep into the back of his throat. Choking on blood, Quackity had died almost instantly.

And now he has one life left. How he’s going to use it, he’s not sure.

But Quackity sure as hell isn’t planning on going out any time soon.

Schlatt’s spent all three of his lives.

The first time he died, he had tried to avoid it. He hadn’t seen the mistake in making Technoblade execute Tubbo until it was too late. Technoblade had turned on him, eyes blazing red. Schlatt had taken one look at the primed crossbow, and immediately realized that he may have fucked up.

He’s a selfish person by nature. He had no qualms about shoving Quackity in front of him and fleeing. Survival of the fittest, and Schlatt intended to survive.

That’s when the firework had struck him in the back, obliterating his torso and killing Schlatt instantly.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mind the experience. At least it had been quick. At least he came with no lasting damage, the respawn healing any injuries on his body. So Schlatt stopped being afraid of death. He avoided it as much as possible, yes, but he didn’t care. Let them kill him again. Why not? He’ll just come back. 

His second death came at the hands of Quackity, not to Schlatt’s surprise. As soon as he’d seen the bow in Quackity’s hands, he knew it was inevitable. So he’d dared Quackity, challenging him, baiting him. 

The arrow had gone straight through Schlatt’s right temple. At such a close range, it was impossible for Quackity to miss. Again, Schlatt’s death was instantaneous and almost painless.

And then his third and final death. Once again, Schlatt could see it coming from a mile away. Everyone who’d been on his side abandoned him. Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, Dream, even Wilbur, to some extent. Dream had deposited Schlatt in the remains of the camarvan and told him to wait. When he returned, he returned with an army. 

There was no point in resisting. So naturally, that’s what Schlatt did.

He had thought that Tommy would finish the job. Schlatt hadn’t expected the searing pain that spread from his chest and the coughs that racked his body. 

Schlatt’s ghost stays back, away from the action. He knows he isn’t a welcome presence, unlike Wilbur. So he keeps his distance, watching from afar. Watching it fall apart.

Just as he said it would.

**Author's Note:**

> Lol I stayed up until 4am writing this, hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
